


And Just For Tonight

by MashpotatoeQueen5



Category: Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Again, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Batman takes care of his Robins, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Cheese toasties, Dealing with fear gas, Dealing with hallucinations, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fear gas, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hallucinations, Hurt/Comfort, Hyperventilation, I just really love their dynamic guys, Kidnapping, My Little Ponies, Not sarcastically, Poor Dick, Poor Roy, Poor robin, Protective Roy Harper, Robin Burritos, Robin is scared and jumpy, Robin was kidnapped, Roy is a big dork face, Roy is a good bro, Roy will take care of his little bro, Sleepy Robin, This kid just can't get a break, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Watching My Little Ponies, for real, hurt!Robin, mental trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-06 16:51:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12821862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MashpotatoeQueen5/pseuds/MashpotatoeQueen5
Summary: Robin was missing for over twenty four hours, only to show up at Roy's apartment, hurt and with fear gas running through his veins. Roy takes care of him until Batman shows up, because that's the psuedo big brother's job.OR: That time Robin was jumping at his own shadow and Roy tries to keep him together through cheesie toasties and My Little Pony marathons.





	1. And Just For Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> So I just wanted to do a warmup but this happened instead and I decided to post it?
> 
> I dunno, man, I dunno.
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy some Dick and Roy fluff!
> 
> This is set sometime early in the first season, like the first few episodes or so.

Roy was three seconds away from screaming and five away from killing someone, and possibly six seconds from doing both at the same time.

Today…. had not been a good day for him.

He had had to deal with several incredibly stupid and arrogant customers- all with crying, whining children- at his job at McDonalds. (And the fact that his job was  _McDonalds_  of all things in the first place was enough to make him angry even on a normal day.) Then he had snapped at one of said customers and gotten fired, and he was going to have to get a new job tomorrow. (At least it wouldn't be McDonald's.) His trip to the grocery store- for he had been out of food, again- resulted in long, endless lines and an argument with the cash register, because the pickles were on sale  _and were not that expensive, thank you very much._ And then, of course, his car had broken down on his trip home, in the middle of the road, resulting in a multitude of cars honking in  _absolutely wonderful_ background music as he tried to get it start back up again. And then he had gotten a fricken ticket from the fricken police.

And now his stupid keys wouldn't work to open his apartment, the apartment where his rent was passed due and the plumbing wasn't working and he still had trash to take out from three weeks ago.

Roy Harper hated his life, and he was 300% sure that it hated him back.

Of course, just as Roy gave in and dropped his bags to the floor so he could properly jingle around the keyhole, he came to the realization that his apartment wasn't as empty as he had thought, and that someone was moving around inside of it.

Roy tensed, slowly scooting the bags out of the way and gently working his key into the lock, silencing his muttered curses.

The key clicked, and Roy slammed the door open with a yell as he leaped into the room.

Then, he promptly froze.

For he had been expecting many things. A thief, Ollie, hell, maybe even Chesire. He was prepared for those options.

He was not prepared for one thirteen year old Robin.

And he was definitely not prepared for said thirteen year old Robin to yelp loudly and drop the plate he was holding to the ground, where it promptly shattered into pieces. What he was not expecting was for Robin to literally jump into the air at the shattering sound and leap backwards onto the window sill.

Roy may have not been incredibly smart, but he wasn't an idiot.

Something was wrong.

Slowly, Roy lowered himself out of his fighting position.

"Robin?"

The younger boy blinked, slinking himself out of his defensive position on the window sill and onto the ground. Roy noted that the brightly clad teen had yet to relax, instead staying tense near the window.

Near to the closest escape route.

Something was horribly, horridly wrong.

"R-Roy?"

Roy, unsure as to what he should do in this situation, nodded.

"Yeah, that's me. You okay?"

He most definitely was  _not_ okay, but Roy didn't want to make the other boy feel trapped. Didn't want to make him run away.

Robin nodded, slow and shaky, and cautiously edged his way towards him. The kid, Roy realized, was still dressed in his Robin costume, except he didn't have his shoes or his gloves, or- Roy was concerned to notice- his belt. The costume itself was tattered and dirty, and smeared in blood in several places, blood which Roy desperately hoped wasn't the boy's own.

"Y-Yeah. 'M fine. I- uh- Here. Let…. Let me help with… 'm sorrry 'bout the plate. Didn' mean to."

Roy's frown tugged at his lips upon the realization on how slurred the other boy's words were, but he resisted the urge to make the face. Any movement of mal intent might set the boy off, and if Dick was facing what Roy thought he was…. Then that would be really, really bad.

Dick had knelt by the broken glass, slowly picking up the larger pieces and seemingly unaware of the other pieces that were probably cutting into his bare feet. Roy noted the bright red rope burns that slithered their way up the Boy Wonder's arms and the small puncture wound on his neck, which looked suspiciously like it came from the use of a needle.

Robin, oblivious to Roy's observations, continued picking up glass. His hands were shaking.

It was only after Dick cut his own finger on the sharp edge of a piece of glass, small welts of blood dripping from the tiny slash of skin, that Roy realized he was just  _standing there_  when he should have been  _helping_. Dick had paused in his cleaning, eyes blown wide behind the mask and staring at his finger, frozen, as if it was some incredibly gory wound.

"Alright. Come on, Rob, let's go clean that up."

He knelt down to help the younger boy up, except at the slightest movement Robin jerked back, as if he had been shocked. Roy froze.

"Rob? Rob, it's just me. It's just Roy. We're at my apartment, and you got yourself a nasty little cut on your finger, and I just wanna go to the bathroom sink and clean it up, kay?

Dick blinked behind his mask, letting out a shuddering breath, and nodded.

"K-Kay."

Roy smiled- even though he felt like frowning and/or going out to  _beat into a bloody pulp_ whoever did this to his pseudo little brother- and slowly,  _slowly_  stood up, offering a hand to the former.

After a slight hesitation, Robin took it.

They went to the bathroom and Roy ignored how Robin seemed to jump at every little movement, every little shadow. How the boy stared in horror at the rushing water for several moments when Roy turned on the tap, until he could finally convince him that  _it was just water, Dick, really_.

The younger boy stayed unnaturally silent throughout the entire procedure of washing the cut and smearing antiseptic cream and plastering a silly Monster's Inc bandage on it, the whites of his mask unnaturally wide, and mind unnaturally unfocused.

"Hey, Dick?"

The kid looked up at him, blinked several times and shook his head.

"Y-yeah?"

"I think you should get out of those clothes. They're kinda…" Ripped. Ruined. Covered in blood and gore. "They're kinda dirty."

Dick swallowed, hugging his tattered cape around himself, nodded.

Roy looked on, feeling highly inadequate to deal with the situation and more than a little at lost as to what he should do.

They eventually managed- with a lot of flinches and hesitance on Robin's part and a lot of suppressed frowns and anger towards whoever did this on Roy's- to peel off Robin's tunic, revealing a myriad of bruisings and shallow cuts. Roy bit back a curse and tended to them, carefully cleaning the area with a warm washcloth before using his meager healing supplies to slather the blotches of tender purple with cream and bandage the slashes of skin where they were shallow, stitching up the deeper ones and trying to ignore how Robin just looked paler and paler as time went on, flinching with every tiny piece of contact.

He didn't bother to ask Robin to take off his pants, didn't want to have to deal with the small whimpers of pain and heavy flinches again. Instead, he took out his scissors- made especially to cut open kelver and such for situations like this- and sheared most of the material off, leaving the boy's legs bare.

Robin physically jerked away from him at the revealment of the scissors, and Roy had to spend a few minutes explaining that,  _no, he wasn't going to cut him open, he just needed to see his legs in order to help him_.

He was going to  _kill_ whoever did this.

But eventually he managed to calm Robin down and tend to the bruises and cuts that splattered across the boy's legs, which was a relief. By the time that Roy finished wrapping and slathering wounds and washing the younger's hair in the sink, Robin looked more mummy than boy, but at least nothing risked getting infected and he was clean.

"I'm gunna take your mask off, now. That okay?"

Again, the hesitation. Again, a nod. Again, a surge of protective anger that made Roy want to tear the horrible,  _sick_  people who did this limb by limb.

Slowly, Roy reached out and gripped the edge of the boy's mask, ignoring the heavy flinch that occurred when he first made contact with skin. He gently tugged at the black material until it pulled away from Robin's face, leaving Dick Grayson behind.

He crouched a little to get a better look at the boy's eyes, both dreading and expecting what he saw.

Dick's usually sharp blue orbs were blown wide, pupils heavily diluted and dull. Every few seconds the eyes would flicker around the room before focusing back on Roy, seeing sights and images that were not truly there. What caused him the most concern was the swirling grey mixing with blue, a sure sign of fear gas. The fact that it wasn't simply flecks in the irises and was instead swirls of grey meant that some sort of antidote had been administered, which was good, but the fact that he'd been gassed at all...

He didn't say anything, though. Didn't ask how Robin got affected or how he lost his shoes and gloves and belt. Didn't even ask how the younger boy got into his apartment. There was time for that later.

Instead, he started to lightly nudge the boy out of the bathroom and into his bedroom.

"Here, c'mon, let's get you something to change into."

His concern only grew when Dick offered no resistance, simply following his gentle nudges without complaint. Roy dug through his dresser, bypassing the many layers of dirty clothes before locating a relatively clean grey shirt and pair of dark coloured sweats, along with a clean pair of boxers. Upon this success, he placed the articles of clothing in Dick's limp hands with instructions to get dressed, and quietly edged out of the room.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Roy reached into his pocket and pulled out his battered phone, typing in a well memorized phone number and jamming it against his ear.

Batman's gruff voice answered.

" _What._ "

Roy swallowed as the snarled growl, even though Batman was probably miles away.

"Batman, it's Red Arrow. Robin's at my place."

Immediately, all bite left the older man's tone.

"You have him? Is he okay? How-"

Roy interrupted the interrogation before it could truly begin, knowing that he would otherwise not get a word in.

"I dunno on how he got here, but he's really bruised up and has several cuts all over. He also has an injection mark on his neck and is really, really jumpy. I think he's been gassed."

He heard the dark vigilante growl and suppressed a shiver, glancing at the closed door behind him before lowering his voice.

"Bruce… what happened?"

"..."

"Bruce?"

A sigh came from across the line.

"Robin got kidnapped by Scarecrow just over twenty four hours ago, and has been missing ever since. I tracked them down to Star City, so he must have escaped and then went to the closest safe spot."

Roy nodded, suspicions confirmed, before realizing that Batman could not see him and stating his affirmative. Then there was silence for several moments.

"They're still at large?"

Batman did not grace him with a reply for another few moments, and Roy almost thought that the man had hanged up on him, but then came a soft, "Yes."

Roy hesitated, eyes flickering to the closed door once more, and then to the closet across the hall, where he kept his weapons and costume..

His fingers twitched.

He looked back to the door.

He sighed.

"I'll take care of him. Go get those bastards."

"... Thank you."

The line clicked shut.

Roy sighed, swiping his hand across his face, and then headed to the kitchen to make some coffee; something told him it was going to be a long, long night.

He didn't even make it down the hallway before a high pitched, slightly terrified voice echoed from his bedroom.

"R-Roy!?  _Roy!_ "

He had never moved so fast in his entire life, racing down the hall and slamming into the room without a second thought.

His eyes scanned the room for intruders and threats, but all he found was one very small Robin cured into a ball in the corner of the room, eyes wide with delayed panic and hands on his own throat.

Panicked blue orbs met brown.

"R-Roy. Roy I can't- I can't breathe. I can't-"

Some distant part of Roy's brain was acknowledging that his current charge was hyperventilating and that hyperventilation was a common occurrence among fear gas victims, but everything else was focused on Dick, and he was crouching down next to the boy with a hand on his back, his other carefully prying slim fingers away from Dick's pale neck, before most people could even blink.

"Dick, you're fine. You can breathe just fine, it's just the gas making you think you can't. C'mon, bud, breathe with me here. In and out, just like that, just like that. And again, in and out, in and out. You're going to be fine, okay, you're going to be just fine. There's no more monsters, you're safe,  _you're safe_."

Eventually, Dick's hitching breaths slowed down into something more manageable and Roy was left with an armful of shaking, exhausted Boy Wonder.

"'m sorry."

Roy sighed at the mumbled words.

"It's fine. Let's just… let's go get something to eat, kay? I think it'll be good for the both of us."

"Kay."

The redhead stood and helped Dick up, noticing for the first time just how ridiculously large his clothing was on the smaller boy. The sweatpants hung low on the other's hips despite the fact that the drawstrings were knotted as far as they could go, and the pant legs were rolled up several times. The shirt was severely baggy as well, slipping down one pale, slim shoulder and revealing the crisp white bandages underneath.

Roy would have called the other adorable if not for the heavy bags under the too wide eyes and the overall pale, sickly demeanor.

Instead he gently maneuvered the bird to his tiny kitchen counter table and plopped him down on the stool there, leaving the younger to sweep up the glass that still lay scattered across his kitchen floor, and rushed outside to retrieve his abandoned groceries, which were luckily unstolen.

After depositing the freezibles in the freezer and the fridgibles in the fridge, he quickly set to work in making a pair of cheese toasties, as well as some coffee for himself. Once done with that, he plopped down on the stool next to Robin and slightly nudged the boy's shoulder from where he was lying on the counter, head cradled in his arms.

"Rob? You awake? Wanna toastie? I even got some ketchup for you, even though it's utterly disgusting."

Dick slowly tilted his head up, flinching upon seeing Roy sitting next to him before quickly shaking his head and blinking rapidly, silently reaching out and accepting the plate of food. They sat together in silence, then, Roy consuming his food and gulping down his coffee and continuously shooting concerned looks at the other boy as he nibbled on his sandwich, which Robin was either steadfastly ignoring or steadfastly unaware of: Roy could never tell.

By the time Roy finished, Dick had taken roughly four tiny bites and was simply staring morosely at his food, as if it had suddenly transformed to a severed pile of worms.

Roy sighed, nudging the other's shoulder.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Dick blinked up at him, shrugged, and Roy ignored the voice in his head that was constantly commenting about how quiet and wrong the boy was acting, because he knew,  _he knew_ …

He also worked on shushing the side of him that was calling for blood, but with far less success.

Dick slipped off the stool and wavered for a second before wandering off to the couch. The archer felt mild concern on how unsteady the boy seemed to be on his feet, but was happy to see that the other was still capable of being independent.

Leaving Dick on the couch, Roy went and gathered all the blankets and pillows from his bed. He considered dumping them on top of the other boy, but with his fragile state… he decided against it. Instead, he placed them next to the other and turned to the battered TV, biting his lip and flipping his way through his movies, searching for the least violent and dark one he could find.

As he worked with the stubborn electronics, he heard Robin shift.

"Roy?"

The voice was rather strained.

"Roy… Roy you don't- you don't have any dead bodies in your apartment, r-right?"

Roy blinked and whirled around, staring at the younger boy, whose gaze was locked on a dark corner of his apartment where a bunch of Roy's gym bags were kept, pale as a sheet and sweating ever so slightly.

The archer stood and sat next to the younger, tapping his chin so that his head faced away from the apparent bodies. He hated to think what was going on in Dick's head at that very moment.

"Nope. No bodies. There's just you and me here. And what you're seeing is a bunch of my gym bags."

Robin blinked, eyes wavering to the corner once more before Roy tapped his chin again to keep his focus away from it. The younger boy looked unconvinced and perhaps a little green, but he nodded nonetheless. Roy tried for a smile and went back to choosing a movie.

He ended up choosing the complete set of the My Little Pony series- it had been a gag gift from Wally, he  _did not_ buy it for himself,  _thank you very much_ \- and slipped the first tape into the old VHS player. (Yes, laugh it up. A VHS player. Call him old fashioned, whatever.)

"Scoot."

Dick did, curling away from him and into the center of the couch, so covered in blankets and pillows that he looked more like a Robin burrito than human, and Roy plopped himself down next to him, wrapping an arm around his narrow shoulders with obvious, slow movements.

The first three episodes passed in tense silence, and only when Dick spoke up did Roy realize that the younger's eyes had strayed from the TV screen and was instead focused on the wall above it.

"Roy? There's no… Your house isn't infested with bugs, is it?"

Roy blinked at the odd statement, double checked the wall to make sure that there were, in fact, no bugs, and said, "No, I don't think so."

"...Kay."

Roy did not comment as Robin tucked the blankets surrounding him a little bit closer, shutting out all the cracks, and there was more silence for another couple of episodes, before another question interrupted it.

"R-Roy?"

"Hmmm?"

"I… Who- What's that, by- by the doorway?"

A pale bandaged arm was poking out of the cocoon of blankets and toward the doorway, where a second hand coat rack stood, long fingers shaking ever so slightly.

"It's a coat rack. Why?"

Dick blinked up at him, face flushed and pale all at once.

"I- I thought it was the Joker."

They slipped back into silence, but Roy tucked his arm a little tighter on Dick's shoulders, tugging him the smallest bit closer.

And so it went, every few episodes Dick would speak up, asking for reassurances that the nightmares he was seeing were not reality, until at last he fell silent.

Roy, hardly daring to move, peeked downwards.

Robin wasn't asleep, but he was close. Sky blue orbs- which, he was happy to see, were lacking in such heavy swirls of grey- were glazed over as they watched unseeing the brightly lit colours on the screen. The mess of black hair had, at some point, thunked down on Roy's shoulder, leaving the bird curled up as a small ball of blankets and limbs. With every blink the head rested just a little bit more heavily on him, and with every blink blue eyes were hidden from the world for just a little longer.

Finally, with a quiet murmur on some unintelligible subject, Dick curled into Roy just a little farther and closed his eyes properly, at last falling into the realms of dreams.

Roy sighed, smiled, shifted into a slightly more comfortable position, and turned his eyes back to the screen.

It had been a long day, and it was going to be a long night, and the smell of healing creams was getting in his nose, and he'd probably have a crick in his arm tomorrow… but he was okay with that.

And in the wee hours of the morning, his door clicked open and a black figure silently entered his apartment.

Roy didn't even flinch, waving his free arm and keeping his eyes on the screen.

Batman walked without a sound until he reached them, where he knelt down and carefully picked Robin up, somehow avoiding getting caught in the tangle of blankets. The boy murmured, brows furrowing, but a few soft words- in a tone that no one else received or heard except for the bird- from his mentor had him calming, curling towards the other's larger frame and relaxing against the infamous emblem, face hidden in the crook between Batman's neck and shoulder.

Roy tiredly swiped at his eyes and went to grab Robin's torn and ruined uniform, which he dropped in Batman's outstretched hand.

"He was missing his belt and shoes and gauntlets."

"I have them."

Hushed voices; whispers. Don't wake the bird.

"Kay… see you later then."

"Red Arrow."

Roy tensed slightly.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

Relaxing, he nodded.

"No problem. G'night."

"Goodnight."

(They both ignored how it was technically morning.)

And then Batman left, the soft purring of the Batmobile roaring down the street just barely reaching his ears as the official signal that he was all alone.

And if, days later, he came home to the sight of his freshly pressed clothes sitting on his couch along with an envelope filled with cash to 'reimburse' him for the costs- even though the amount of money was far too much to be equivalent to what he had actually spent- and he came to the realization that all his crappy appliances had been replaced and were actually working very well….

Well, he didn't complain, simply smiled and sat down on his old, comfy couch and slipped in a VHS tape.

He had a My Little Pony episode to finish, after all.


	2. And Just Till Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> GUYS! 10,000 WORDS! LIKE, WHAT!?
> 
> So, I am back with the second rendition of the story but from Robin's side, as well as some lovely background information on what actually happened and such. But MAN, this really turned into a word monster! I don't think I have written so much for a single chapter EVER before!
> 
> I'm actually kind of impressed with myself, really.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!
> 
> *****WARNING! THIS FIC IS A LOT MORE GORY AND STUFF THAN THE LAST ONE! *****
> 
> **IT INCLUDES KIDNAPPINGS, BLOOD, BUGS, DEATH, ILLUSIONS, UNCONSCIOUSNESS, PANIC ATTACKS AND CANON TYPICAL VIOLENCE!** 
> 
> *****PLEASE TAKE CAUTION IF YOU MIGHT BE TRIGGERED BY ANYTHING! THANK YOU!*****

 

It was a slow, boring patrol.

Until it wasn't.

One minute Robin was flying high in the air, zip lining from building to building and flipping off everything and anything in a casual display of acrobatics, listening to any sounds of violence or crime or need of help.

(Unbeknownst to him, he would be the one in need of help before long.)

Bruce was investigating the warehouse downtown while Robin was charged with checking the abandoned construction site of an automobile parking lot uptown, because Gotham had a lovely assortment of creepy places perfect for cliche villain hideouts. It was one of its many perks.

And so off he went, charged with a rule to check in every fifteen minutes with a status report; Batman may have his Robin off the leash, but it didn't stop him from being an overprotective mother hen.

Then he had heard it, someone crying out for help.

"Oh- Oh God- I- I please- I… I can't! I can't! P-please! Please, please just leave me alone."

Dick dropped down into the darkened alleyway and cautiously headed towards the sound, eyes flickering warily around and sticking to the shadows.

When he finally arrived at the source, he felt slight confusion, for there was only a man, crouching in the corner of the alleyway, hands held up in front of him- as if warding off some terrible beast- and eyes wide with sheer terror.

Robin blinked behind his mask, slowly standing up from his fighting position and hands creeping towards his belt, fumbling with the pouch that held the fear gas antidote; the man's eyes were blown wide, yes, but the flecks of yellowish grey within the brown irises gave all the indication that Robin needed to draw the correct conclusion.

Something moved behind him, a slight shift in the air, a small sound of a misstep, alerting the brightly clad boy mere milliseconds before impact.

It was enough.

Robin through himself to the side, nearly bending himself in half as he used the momentum to flip off the closest wall so that he was behind his attacker. He landed, but then had to hastily duck when a black leathered glove swung right above his head.

Make that  _attackers_.

Again, he flipped out of the way, towards the gassed man, slipping out six batarangs and holding them ready as he mentally counted the thugs.

He was severely outnumbered, and as he looked upwards, he realized that there were now men on the roof as well, blocking his escape.

With mounting horror, Robin realized that the attack was planned.

He hoped that Batman wasn't in the same position.

For a few moments, they were frozen. Everything was silent except for the whimpers and wailings of the man standing behind Robin, but even those seemed to be muted. Distant. Robin stayed still, knowing every second he delayed was a second earned for Batman to figure out that something was wrong and come running. He was going to contact him as soon as possible, of course- Dick wasn't an idiot; he knew that thirty well trained thugs against one teenaged partner without his mentor and a helpless civilian that needed protection was not the best of odds for even the best of heroes- but any movement now would start the fight, and so he waited.

He did not have to wait long.

A man dropped down from the rooftop above and Robin flipped out of the way at the last possible moment, grabbing at the closest fire escape and swinging off of it, landing on one of the men and kicking him down, leaping away before the other men had a chance to close down on him. He had the advantage in which none of the men could fire bullets without possibly hitting one of their comrades within the cramped space. He had the advantage of being able to move fast the minute he escaped the alleyway. He had the advantage of being small and light and quick and a single person amidst the masses of their lumbering bodies.

He had the disadvantage of being alone against thirty something men with someone depending on him to be protected. He had the disadvantage of being just as confined within the small space; no matter where he went, another fist was waiting. He had the disadvantage of being at the very end of the alleyway and very far from the exit, with a wall of men to get through. He had the disadvantage of being small and light, because despite his agility, anyone who caught him could very easily-

Robin muffled a whimper as his back slammed- hard- into the brick wall of the alleyway, and he resisted the urge to groan as he slipped to the ground below. Instead, he swept low with his feet and knocked down the tosser before jumping back up again, deflecting a solid kick aimed at his side and ducking under the harsh tip of a dagger and at the same time.

That was another disadvantage; the men had knives and short range weapons. Robin had... well, not much.

Panting, Robin landed on the ground in front of the gassed man once more, taking out his collapsible bo staff from his belt just in time to block a swing from a lengthened dagger that could almost pass as a sword. Having blocked the maneuver, he dropped to the ground, sweeping a few men's feet from underneath them and using his elbow to knock another man unconscious.

Fourteen; he had taken down fourteen men. Only sixteen left.

But he had gotten distracted and had forgotten his charge, a fact he was brutally reminded of when a small whimper turned his attention.

A thug had gotten his hands on the civilian, knife pressed tight to the tanned throat, a thin trickle of blood already escaping, sliding down and mingling with the sheen of sweat. The man holding him smiled, something cruel and mocking in his gaze, and Robin froze for half a second in indecision.

A half a second too long.

Something hard- the butt of a blade, his mind foggily informed him- slammed into the back of his head, and Dick's legs gave out from underneath him as he crumpled to the ground.

The encroaching darkness made his vision hazy, but he recognized the tell tale prick of a needle on his neck. The man who did it muttered something about 'keeping the brat quiet,' but the world was swirling white, and then yellow, and then a dark garish green, and Dick found he could care less.

And then the world went white again, glaring white, and his eyes shut without his agreement.

Somewhere, distantly, he heard the civilian.

"Just leave me alone, please, j-just leave me alone…"

Dick found himself in agreement, and then he blacked out.

He woke up coughing.

A deep, grating cough that came from the center of his chest, his lungs trying to expel the yellowish gas that filtered through a gas mask and into his throat. But for every bit that was released back into the air, another lungful was swallowed back down. He struggled feebly against the grip on his arms, feeling sluggish and weak, but the only result was the man tightening his fingers to painful levels.

He was in the back of a truck he realized; they were driving somewhere.

Dick felt nauseous and cold, his forehead breaking into sweat and shudders racking his body, the world wavering from green and yellow to normal colors. It was like he was choking on thin air, his head feeling weirdly light around the edges and his arms slowly stopping their frantic tugging.

Fear gas, he realized. He was inhaling fear gas.

_This isn't good_ was the last rational thought that entered his head, eyes wandering across the men leering down at him with his limbs boneless against the base of the truck, and then everything was lost under a haze of monsters and terror.

The rest of the ride was a shaking mess of visions and pain. Dick, later on, would believe that he had not revealed any of Batman and Robin's secrets. That he had not said anything of particular importance.

At least, he hoped so.

(He had not; he had been far too busy screaming.)

Four hours later, his battered, bruised, bloodied body finally gave into exhaustion and he passed out.

He woke up the second time shivering on the cement floor of some forgotten closet, his very veins feeling cold and his muscles rubbery. His eyes were oddly scratchy, as if he had been crying. Robin lay there for the span of a second, trying to keep his stomach from rebelling, but then he was rolling over and throwing up, bile bitter on his tongue and his eyes still clenched tight.

Then he rolled back the other way and lay still for several minutes, heaving. He kept his eyes closed, pretending that he couldn't feel the stinging of small cuts on his arms and legs or the bruises forming on his everywhere. Pretending that he couldn't feel the shadows looming over his prone figure, that he could tell the difference between reality and his own twisted imagination.

Someone was laughing, someone was crying, someone was screaming, and it might have been him, or it might have been his parents, but they were dead, but they were screaming. There were creatures climbing up his figure, swallowing his body whole. The air vents were eyes, peering down at him and mocking. There were monsters, lumbering around him, they were going to eat him, they were going to cut him up and he would never get to tell Bruce he was sorry.

His breath hitched.

And then there was a hissing sound, the pipes rattling, and the ceiling and the floor and the walls were covered in snakes, and the snakes were biting him, and  _please, please just go away, just leave him alone_ …

They did not leave him alone.

He rolled over once more and dry heaved, his body unable to provide anything to throw up. He shuddered, curling into a ball and hiding his head in his cape, shaking. He would wait. He would wait, and Batman would come and get him out, and everything would be okay.

His heart stuttered in his throat.

_What if Batman didn't come?_

But Batman always came.  _He always came_.

So Dick waited, feeling very small and scared and so, so cold and tired, tired,  _tired_ …

The hissing began again, and he vaguely registered that with the hissing came a yellow gas, smogging up the air. His brain registered and then fell into panic.

_No. Not again. No. No. No. No. No. Nonononononono_ -

It was a mantra in his head, one that had him standing unsteadily on his feet, holding his breath and stumbling to the air vent, yanking the cover off and feeling the breath of fresh air hit his face. He dared not breathe it in, however, knowing that the fear gas could still affect him despite being blown away.

The fear gas was being blown away, he realised, and that meant whatever cover he had from the camera was being blown away as well.

He climbed into the vent, trying to ignore the way it transformed into the gaping maw of a monster.

From there, he stumbled along, peeking into every room in search of his belt and vying away from the sights he saw in each individual quarters. Monsters, sirens were calling, but it was really monsters roaring. Or was it the other way around? But they found him- or had they?. He was going to die. No- no Bruce was going to die. Wally was going to die. Roy was dying, they needed him,  _they needed him, why was he ignoring them, THEY NEEDED HIM AND_ -

And they weren't real.  _They weren't real_.

Right?

_Right?_

He could no longer tell. He could only hope.

At long last, he came to a room that was empty except for a slithering yellow snake. The snake was long, hissing and spitting, but within its folds was something important, Dick was so sure of it for reasons beyond his tenuous hold on reality, and so he climbed down from the vent anyways. There were rats on the ground, biting his feet, and a herd of crows with bloodied, broken wings were crawling, slowly, slowly towards him. Dick bit his lip and reached towards the snake, hastily retreating his hand when the creature hissed.

Resting within its coils was a box with the word POISON written on it, and he needed to get it. He had no idea, but some rational part inside of him demanded it. He closed his eyes and reached out and snatched it. The snake bit him, and it  _burned_ , and their was pinpricks of blood escaping from the bite mark on his hand.

He ignored it, despite the whispering voice informing him that he was going to die in mere moments from venom and-

He tried to open the poison box with his shaking fingers, eventually giving up and pulling it open with his teeth. Working on autopilot, he slammed the deadly knife-  _Knife? Wasn't it poison?_ \- into his thigh.

Then he dropped to the ground and dry heaved again, spitting out stomach acids. The sirens were ringing, but it could have been his head,or it could have been the monsters, but either way he couldn't tell reality from his fake reality of nightmares and illusions.

The floor began to move, slowly sinking inwards to try and swallow him whole, and he scrambled to his feet and back into the vent, the bite mark fading on his skin.

Behind him, a pair of boots, a pair of gloves, a trusty old yellow tool belt, and a box clearly labeled ANTIDOTE were left behind, lying lifeless and abandoned.

With the silence of a Bat, Dick navigated the darkened tunnels, heart in his throat and every limb shaking. Every sound was someone finding him, dragging him back. Every scuttle some horrible creature come to eat him alive. Every wrong turn a masterful trick of an evil labyrinth, just as alive as the one from the Greek myths, and just as dangerous.

And then the vent came to an end and he slammed into the grate, falling into the blinding light.

He crashed onto the ground, groaning, but the monsters were still roaring-  _the alarm was still ringing_ \- and he could hear the beasts thundering closer-  _there were guards coming_ \- and the world was shaded yellow but even he could see that  _now_  was the time to make an exit.

Robin ran for half a mile and then he climbed a tree and hid within the foliage, shivering so hard- from cold or from terror he could not tell- that he feared they would see the shaking leaves and find him.

The cars-  _the ginormous, metallic beasts with glaring yellow eyes and gaping mouths filled with ragged teeth_ \- did not spot him in the end, driving right past him without even slowing down. He stayed where he was anyways, trying to suppress a panic attack and fight against the sleep pulling at his lids.

Then the wood began to slowly grow over his limbs, and Robin watched in horrified fascination as his fingers started to become bark for several seconds before he jerked his hand away.

He did not stay in the tree for long after that, but he kept to the sparse forests that surrounded the road; no need it make it  _easy_  for his captors. However, every step was filled with an irrational fear that some creature was about to jump him, and so more and more his path became a zigzag in order to avoid them. It was because of this he was able to find a trail marker.

GREEN ARROW ROAD

The only city that had any real memorial for the green clad hero would have been the Star City itself. But if he was in Star City…. That meant- assuming he had been taken by car...- he was missing at least fourteen hours of memory.

He swallowed, shaking, and looked upwards, trying to make his mind cooperate enough to remember just which Star City National Park used such a trail. His brain did not feel up to it, however, and so Dick tiredly turned to the marker, sitting down very softly; he had not slept in over twenty four hours, unless one counted being unconscious. Nor had he eaten. Or drunk anything.

He traced the board, trying to get the hazy image to focus, looking for anything that could help him, finally stopping upon the words GREENSBORO LET OUT. He squinted, tilted his head. That sounded like an exit. Exits were good.

Then the green arrows became acidic lizards and Robin's fingers were burnt as they hissed and spat at them with poisoning breaths. He cursed, backing away from the sign and rapidly shaking his fingers before dashing away. The burning sensation on his appendages unfading, he jabbed the wounded tips in his mouth.

The burning stopped.

So did Robin.

He looked down at his fingers, seeing them unblemished, if not a little dirty.

Looked back at the sign, where the green arrows were simply arrows once more.

He blinked.

Fear gas. He was under the influence of fear gas. He was suffering illusions. He wasn't crazy. These creatures and beasts weren't real. He was going to be okay.

He just needed to get out.

Robin took off again, slower this time, and carefully followed the arrows, each step feeling as if another weight had been placed on his shoulders. He just wanted to curl up and sleep, but at the same time he didn't; he had the strangest feeling he would wake up screaming. And so he trudged onwards, double and triple checking that he was going the right way every few minutes. At one point, he thought for sure he heard the pounding of many feet and the grunting of guards and he threw himself to the side of the trail, hiding himself in a large bush that was unfortunately thorny but fortunately good at providing cover for his small frame.

He stayed there for several terrified minutes, trying to get his breathing under control, but eventually the thundering passed. (It was a group of simple cross country runners, but Robin did not know that.)

Then he continued onwards.

Suddenly, two figures dropped from the trees above. They fell, splattering on the ground bloody and broken, limbs askew in utterly wrong positions and eyes opened wide in shock, but empty and dull.

Dick took one look and promptly threw up.

Again.

Because those were his parents' bodies and what were they doing here,  _they were not supposed to be here_. They were six feet underground- _Buried?_ \- dead, gone, why were they here they  _were not supposed to be here and oh God Oh God his parents were dead and decaying right before his eyes and what was he going to do and_ -

And he was hyperventilating, and he needed to  _get away_ ,  _get away, get away_.

_Now_.

The bodies turned into a pair of abandoned tires as he disappeared into the woods beyond, but Robin was long gone and unable to see the transformation.

He did not go carefully anymore, simply running as fast as he could down the trail and away from the dead bodies. His breath was high pitched and terrified and  _too fast_  in his throat, but he couldn't  _stop_ and-

And there was a chain link fence in front of him, and he was running headlong towards it, and there were noises of people-  _monsters_ \- chasing him and he had no time to stop. There were shadowy figures with red gaping, glowing mouths and growling metallic beasts with sharp claws waiting on the other side of the fence as well, and he needed to  _stay away from all of them_. They were starting to make noises, screeching, and  _nope_.

With a burst of speed, Robin jumped, sinking his toes into the holes of the metal gate and his landing his fingers firmly on the top of the fence, the solid metal bar making the process a lot easier. Then he flipped himself upwards into a handstand and pushed, flipping off the fence and onto the roof of the low administration building. He didn't even pause to catch his breath or stop the wavering nausea that was building up once more in his stomach, taking off in a run and leaping towards the closest street light and swinging around it twice before throwing himself off and towards a fire escape, which he scrambled up without further ado, disappearing from sight.

Behind him, the small crowd of Nature Park goers standing in a rather empty parking lot watched with open shock, phones filming the sequence and snapping pictures.

Several buildings away, Robin landed wrong and was forced to roll roughly across a cement building before he came to a stop on his back, lying spread eagled. His chest was heaving and his eyesight was wavering in and out of focus, and everything  _ached_ and as so, so cold _._  His throat felt parched, drier than he could ever remember it being, and he really just wanted to sleep.

No, scratch that, he wanted Batman.

He really just wanted to have Batman come and fix everything. That might have been a bit childish, but he had just undergone dealing with- and was still dealing with it- fear gas for _hours-_ Days? He honestly didn't know...- and he thought he was justified in being a little childish.

The door to the roof began to open, a loud creak shattering the silence, and Robin was standing and leaping to the next rooftop before he even registered it. He came to a stop, crouching under a ledge, and then slowly peered down from his perch.

The building was dizzyingly high, and his vision tunneled-  _it was no longer a busy street, but a brightly lit tent, and they were soaring and soaring until they were not_ \- and then he was sitting back down. But his mind was focused on something he had seen.

_The ChiliBurger Restaurant_.

Roy had taken him and Wally there a few months ago. It was a nice family owned restaurant, and he had liked it because no one had recognized him as Dick Grayson and the woman who owned it had been so enthused that Wally enjoyed her cooking enough to have sixth and seventh helpings. It was a little weird, because literally  _every single person_  had smooshed his face and cooed at him at one point during the meal, but overall, it was very nice.

That was all good and well, but the most important thing was that it was  _close to Roy's apartment_. Only a few blocks away.

Dick licked his lips and stood up on shaking limbs.

He jumped to the next building, finally having somewhere to go.

Several rooftops and one attempt at being sick later, he was on top of Roy's apartment complex. Now he just had to get down five floors, and he was good.

He considered going inside…. but….. It was Roy's house, not Red Arrow's; he couldn't enter the front door as Robin, it would make no sense and would possibly give away Roy's identity.

He ended up climbing down the side of the building. At one point, his foot slipped, and he was left gripping a window sill with white fingers for several minutes, shaking like a leaf. But, eventually, he made it. He knew it was the right one because the silly Flash and Batman gel stickers that he and Wally had put there a couple of months ago were still pasted in the corner.

Dick fumbled with the window, ridiculously grateful for once that Roy was neglectful and often forgot to lock it after getting in from patrol. Then he slipped inside.

The apartment was empty.

For a minute, he froze, terrified. What if his captors had gotten here first? What if Roy was kidnapped? What if he was  _dead_?  _What if_ -

But, no. It was in the middle of the day, a weekday. Roy was at work. He was at work and no one had followed him and Roy was fine and Robin was fine and everything was  _just fine_.

He swallowed down some more stomach-acid bile.

Then he crept to the kitchen, trying to ignore the way that the shadows seemed to be reaching for him. He needed water, he decided. Water would be his first step. Then food. Then sleep.

There, he had a plan. Plans were good; Batman would be proud of him.

Someone thumped something on the floor above, and Robin jumped and hit the wall behind him  _hard_  with his already bruised back. He bit his lip to suppress a cry, sinking slowly to the ground as the sound of yelling filled the apartment above. With every loud syllable he flinched, breaths shaking, and somehow every cruel word was directed at him and it was no longer a random couple but Bruce, or Alfred, or Wally, or Roy, or Kaldur, and  _no, no, no, no_ ….

Hu curled up into a ball, hands pressed against his ears and eyes clenched shut as they buried against his knees, for the entire endurance of the argument, which lasted over an hour. Even when it was over, he stayed where he was for a solid ten minutes, trying to get his breathing under control.

Then he stood up, using the wall as a crutch, and shakily grabbed the cheap plastic Red Arrow cup that he and Wally had made for Roy two Christmases ago; if he dropped it, it wouldn't break. But, turning on the tap, he promptly decided that he wasn't thirsty anymore.

There was no water coming from the tap, simply a stream of mangled bats, which flew out of the pipe with torn and bloodied wings and towards him, getting into his hair and scratching him with their claws. He swung his hands at them, repeating the mantra in his head  _that they weren't real, they weren't real, they weren't real, none of this was real,_  and then slammed the tap off, panting.

He spotted a half finished glass of water on the counter, probably left behind that morning when Roy first left for work.

He drank that instead.

Then, feeling utterly exhausted, Robin went to curl up on the couch; he would eat later….

Twenty minutes later, he was still awake, feeling more unsettled than when he had first laid down. The shadows had come alive again and they had been trying to strangle him, and then they hadn't, and then it had been Bruce strangling him, and then Dick was wide awake and not sleeping any time soon.

Or ever. That would be sufficient; he never wanted to have to deal with an angry, hissing, bloodied mouth Batman ever again.

Food then. He would eat, even though his stomach rolled at the mere thought of eating _anything_  at the moment.

He shakily stood up and headed to the kitchen, humming a quiet meaningless tune under his breath to try and rid the apartment of the deathly silent shroud that seemed to hang around. It didn't work; his voice was so dry and cracked and shaky that it made the whole atmosphere  _worse,_  and so he soon gave up.

Just as Dick finally managed to find a plate, the door slammed open.

He looked up, spooked, and immediately felt his eyes bulge, a yelp escaping his lips. There was a monster in the doorway. A huge monster with sagging, dried skin and a gaping mouth filled with teeth, covered in blood and snarling at him with two slitted luminous green eyes. The arms were too long for its body, nearly scraping the ground, and on the tips of the three fingers were deadly looking yellow, garish nails at least seven inches long.

He didn't even realize he had let go of the plate until it shattered on the ground, and he didn't realize he was formulating the best way to jump out the window without his gear, and was, indeed, already crouched on the sill, until he heard his name.

"Robin?"

The voice was distorted, sounding more gravelly and growly, as if someone had put a really horrid auto tune on it, but he recognized it as undeniably as Roy's.

And it was coming from the creature.

He stared at it for several seconds-  _Did it eat Roy!?_ \- before slowly lowering himself off the sill.

He was gassed. He was gassed, and this was just an illusion. He needed to keep himself together; Roy wouldn't hurt him.

He kept close to the window anyways, just in case.

"R-Roy?"

He hated how his voice cracked.

The beast-  _Roy_  nodded.

"Yeah, that's me. You okay?'

_No._

He nodded.

"Yeah. 'M fine. I- uh- Here. Let… Let me help with… 'm sorry 'bout the plate. Didn' mean to."

He felt shaky- terrified, really- but he managed to make himself slowly head towards the Roy creature. If he didn't look the creature directly in the eye, he could almost pretend that he wasn't scared the elder was about to bite him. He just took it very, very slow.

The monster-  _Roy_ \- didn't move.

His hands were shaking-  _he_  was shaking- and he felt hot and cold at the same time. But he knelt down and slowly started picking up the pieces, feeling bad about the innocent plate lost to his startlement. He didn't look up at Roy, keeping up the idea that Roy was normal and everything was fine and that there was no monster leering down his neck.

His finger cut on an edge of a piece of glass, a small sharp sting in the midst of his cautious mental state, and he blinked. Slowly, he raised the wounded appendage to eye level, and suppressed a gag.

Maggots were crawling out of his finger by the truckload, small and white and squeamish. They were squirming slowly outwards before dropping to the ground, one by one by one, mingling with the droplets of blood.

"... ome on, Rob, let's go clean that up."

The creature lunged at him, and Robin's breath hitched in his throat and he jerked back, maggots forgotten.  _He was going to die, he was going to die, he was going to die_ -

"-ob!? Rob, It's just me. It's just Roy. We're at my apartment, and you got yourself a nasty little cut on your finger, and I just wanna go to the bathroom sink and clean it up, kay?"

Robin blinked rapidly a few times, heart pounding in his throat, and the monster finally faded away into Roy. The elder man was crouching in front of him, a heavily worried look on his face and red hair dull under the fading light coming in from the window. His hands were up, showing the empty-  _clawless_ \- fingers, and he was ever so slowly reaching out towards him.

Dick could have cried in relief.

Instead, he took a deep, shuddering breath, glancing quickly down to the now maggot-free floor, before turning his gaze back to Roy. His Roy, not monster Roy. This Roy was safe. He wouldn't hurt him. He could trust this Roy. Roy would protect him. He was going to be okay.

_He was going to be okay_.

He nodded.

"K-Kay."

Roy gave him a smile, small and strained around the edges but a thousand times preferable to shouting or yelling or growling snarls, and stood up, holding out his hand.

Robin hesitated, something scared and childish inside of him insisting that to touch the other's hand would shatter the illusion. Except… except the monster was the illusion and Roy was real, but the _n the monster was there first so would this Roy be the illusion or_ -

_He was going to be okay._

Another breath. Another blink. He took the hand.

He felt his fingers gripping the other's hand ridiculously tight, enough that the appendages were white, and he knew that it probably hurt, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. Roy had yet to pull his hand away, though, so he wouldn't complain. Instead, he pushed himself just that much closer to the older boy, trying to pretend as if the shadows were not moving and reaching out to grab him and swallow him whole into their darkened embrace.

He was beyond relieved when they entered the bathroom, even though the brilliant light that came from the light bulb stung his eyes.

But then Roy was turning on the sink and  _Oh God that was blood- that was somebody's blood pouring out of the tap like water and Roy wanted him to put his hand in it and nope nope nope nope_.

Roy was talking to him, but there was so much  _blood_  and it was getting  _everywhere_ and  _splattering on the walls and ceilings and on him and_ -

"...ust water, Dick, really."

It wasn't just water. It wasn't. It was blood. And it was spilling over the edges of the sink and covering the floors and  _why was Roy not freaking out and Oh God there was so much blood and it was everywhere_ -

There was a hand on his shoulder, warm and secure, and that hand belonged to Roy and he could trust Roy even when he couldn't trust his own senses. Roy was his friend, his pseudo brother. Roy would protect him. If Roy said it was just water, it was just water, and he was  _going to be okay_.

He gave Roy his hand and refused to watch as the older boy placed it under the thick stream of red. His breath hitched, because it felt real. Sticky and warm and thick, and he didn't like it, he didn't like it  _at all._

Roy shifted, their arms brushing, and Robin remembered that it was important to breathe.

He watched the walls, mind fading from his current situation and the blood. Slowly, the shadows of the hallway were creeping into the light bathed bathroom, taking over the white tiles and forming gaping mouths and faces.

Imperceptibly, he scooted just that much closer to Roy.

He was aware that the tap had turned off, that his hand was not red with blood, but everything felt far away and distant, and his eyes felt glazed and tired, and he was cold, and the shadows were creeping, creeping towards them slowly but surely, and-

"Hey, Dick?"

He blinked and shook his head, trying to clear it of shadows and monsters and deep graveling voices.

"Y-yeah?"

"I think you should get out of those clothes. They're kinda…. They're kinda dirty."

He swallowed and tugged his cape closer around himself. He got where Roy was coming from; his Robin suit was in a disgusting state of disrepair. But at the same time…. His costume was like a security blanket. In it, he wasn't just Dick Grayson, a thirteen year old orphan, he was someone important. He was a superhero. He could do anything, defeat any scum of humanity, if he was wearing that stylized R.

And Dick wasn't so sure he could defeat the shadows and monsters lunging for him from his own mind without it.

But that was stupid. He wasn't some little kid and he could- he would- be able to handle a little fear gas just as much as he did within the costume as he did out of it.

_He was going to be okay._

He nodded.

Roy began to peel off his bloody and grimy tunic, but at some point the red heads hands had transformed from normal human fingers and back into long dried bony arms with three fingers and three long, grimy claws to match, and Robin became flinchy and flighty because of it. He knew, logically, that Roy was actually just Roy and that there were no monster arms. That he was suffering from fear gas and that this was all fake. That his flinching and hesitance to do what the elder said-  _Raise your arms for me, would ya, Rob? Please?-_ was just making Roy's job harder, and that he was making Roy angry based on the small scowls and frowns and downright growls escaping the other, but  _he couldn't stop_.

He couldn't stop, and he felt so out of control himself that he almost felt like he was suffocating.

And then the tunic was off, and Roy was washing his wounds with blood-  _Just water, Dick, it's just water. I promise_ \- and rubbing something burning, even though he was pretty sure that it was supposed to be cool and relieving, on his flesh (he dared not look, in fear that his mind would convert it to something beyond what he could deal with). And then Roy was wrapping his chest and shoulders and waist with small slithering white snakes, and Robin almost yelled, but then he blinked and shook his head and the scaly creatures became bandages. And then Roy was using his ever present claws to dig into his cuts and it hurt and he felt- embarrassingly- tears well up in his eyes but he didn't say anything because Roy had said that he was just stitching up some of the bigger slashes and Dick knew that, he knew that, and he'd been stitched up a hundred times but this hurt so much and Roy's claws were scraping up and down his back and-

_He was going to be okay he was going to be okay hewasgoingtobeokay-_

And suddenly Roy was in front of him, except he wasn't Roy, the figure in front of him was pale as death and the red hair was falling out, as well as skin and it-  _Was it a corpse? Was it Roy's corpse? Oh god, Roy was dead, he was dead and_ \- was holding a huge knife and  _Oh God it was going to kill him. It was going to cut him open and_ -

And then it wasn't a monster anymore, it was Roy again, his rough calloused archer palms on Robin's cheeks and faced screwed up in a heavily worried expression, a pair of kevlar scissors lying abandoned on the shadow filled floor.

"-not going to hurt you, Rob. I promise. I promise, you're safe, I got you, I have you bud. I'm not- I'm not going to cut you open. I just need to get to your legs so I can help deal with those nasty cuts. Okay? Robin- Dick, you hearing me? I'm not going to hurt you. I promise. Dick?  _Dick!?_ "

Instinctively, Dick reached up and grabbed Roy's palm, squeezing hard. This was real, Roy was real, Roy wouldn't hurt him. He wouldn't.

_HewasgoingtobeokayHewasgoingtobeokayHewasgoingtobeokay-_

A shuddering breath later, he let go of the hand, closed his eyes tight and didn't look as Roy sheared off the bottom of his pants, leaving his legs bare, both because he was terrified that Roy would transform back into a monster and that he didn't want to see the absolutely livid expression on Roy's face.

He kept his eyes tightly shut and his body utterly still as the redhead dealt with his legs, trying to be good and trying to hold back the flurry of apologies that wanted to escape his lips. He- He didn't want to bother Roy. He didn't want to make him angry, he- he was just so tired and he didn't know where else he could  _go and_ -

"I'm gunna take your mask off, now. That okay?"

Robin swallowed, hesitating, before slowly nodding. Roy's hands were still claws, and he couldn't stop the flinch that overcame him when the yellowed nails first came in contact with his skin.

Then the mask was tugged away and he felt strangely naked without it.

Roy was crouching down and looking at him, worried brown orbs tracing his own eyes, and he tried to stay still, but now that he had opened his eyes he was aware of just how many shadows had invaded the bathroom, how they had taken over the walls and the floor and the ceiling, like a room slowly filling with water, one where he was destined to drown.

And then Roy was nudging him- his arms finally back to normal- slowly guiding him out of the shadow filled room and towards the redhead's own bedroom.

"Here, c'mon, let's get you something to change into."

Behind them, the darkened spectres were screeching for their lost prey, shadowy hands reaching out to grasp him. He tried to ignore them, and only flinched a little when icy tentacles gripped loosely at his ankles.

Robin kicked them off and stuck close to Roy, who the shadows seemed to be unable to touch.

And then Roy was digging through his dressers and Dick felt so out of it that he couldn't even remember when they had arrived at Roy's messy room. And then suddenly the redhead himself was in front of him and placing clean clothes into his cold hands, his numb fingers curling into the fabric without conscious thought.

Roy said something about how he should get dressed, walking out of the room with his hand already reaching towards his back pocket, where he kept his phone.

The door clicked shut, leaving Dick alone.

His cold fingers gripped the fabric beneath them that much harder, and he swallowed hard, glancing around the room with nervous eyes.

Nothing that he could see. He was safe, for now.

As fast as he could, he kicked off what remained of his pants and pulled on the boxers and the sweatpants that the archer had given him. The sweats were ridiculously large, and he was required to roll up the legs several times before he could even see his feet, and knot the drawstring to its furthest extent. The shirt, once he pulled it on, revealed itself to be far too baggy for his frame as well.

But the faster he put everything on, the faster he could escape and run back to Roy, to safety, so he wouldn't complain.

But he hadn't paid attention as he had gotten dressed, and the shadows had slipped into the room without his knowledge. He turned to leave, but stopped short at the sight of the door crawling with the darkened faces and grasping hands. He swallowed hard, heart pounding somewhere in his throat, and took a step back.

The shadows lunged forward, and suddenly they were no longer shadows but Batman, except not because  _his_  Batman was not made of black wisps that curled off his being and did not have glowing red eyes and a gaping blood red mouth.

Robin stumbled backwards, eyes wide, and tried to get past the lump in his throat, to call out.

But he had stumbled into a corner-  _stupid, stupid, stupid_ \- and then the Batman was lunging at him, transforming into a whirl of shadowy gas, and pouring into his opened mouth and into his throat and he suddenly couldn't breathe, he was choking, the Shadow Batman was killing him from the inside out, and his eyes were watering and he was slipping down, down,  _and he couldn't breathe_ -

"R-Roy!?  _Roy!_ "

The lump was gone, but there was  _still not enough air_.

Roy burst into the room approximately three seconds later, and Dick would have complimented him on his quick reaction time but he couldn't breathe and panic was crawling into his skin and everything was hazy and fading in and out, _in and out, and he needed air, he needed air and-_

Roy was there, but perhaps he was not there, and the Roy standing before him was a Roy created from his imagination and he was going to die waiting for help and never getting any and-

"R-Roy. Roy I can't- I can't breathe. I can't-"

There was air but he was breathing too fast and he couldn't get it into his lungs before it was whisked away again _and oh Gods oh Gods why couldn't he breathe he needed to breathe_ -

Roy was there now, for real this time, one hand on his back while the other tugged gently at the fingers Robin had wrapped around his throat-  _When did those get there?_ \- a constant stream of soothing words escaping his mouth.

"Dick, you're fine. You can breathe just fine, it's just the gas making you think you can't. C'mon, bud, breathe with me here. In and out, just like that, just like that. And again, in and out, in and out. You're going to be fine, okay, you're going to be just fine. There's no more monsters, you're safe,  _you're safe."_

Dick wanted to shout that  _no,_  it was not fine, that there were still monsters, that the shadows were still crawling around the room and that they were still in danger, but the air was still not coming to him and Roy was there, crushing him into a tight hug, and so he just buried his face into the crook of the elder's neck and tried to block out the whole wide world.

Just tried to  _breathe_.

And eventually the air came back and he was so shaky he wasn't even sure what he was going to do with himself, and so, _so_ tired that he couldn't even bring himself to be embarrassed about his position, curled up on Roy's lap as if he was five.

He wasn't tired enough to not feel guilt, however; there were other things Roy would surely prefer doing than dealing with thirteen year old messes.

"'m sorry."

Roy sighed, and Dick hardly managed to suppress a cringe.

_(He was sorry, he was sorry, please don't kick him out….)_

"It's fine. Let's just… let's go get something to eat, kay? I think it'll be good for the both of us."

Dick's stomach rolled at the idea of food, but he nodded anyways, trying to prevent Roy from becoming even more annoyed with him.

"Kay."

Roy helped him up, and he tried to stay on his own two feet when all he really wanted to do was curl up into a ball in a corner and escape the world for a while, and all the confusing non realities that had become  _his_  reality. He felt hot and cold again, and everything was so sluggish that he thought that he could be walking through marshmallow fluff, except marshmallow fluff made the situation sound  _pleasant_  and it most definitely was  _not_...

But Roy was heading to the kitchen,and more than anything he didn't want to be left alone again, and so he made his uncooperative limbs work anyways.

He was sat on a stool as Roy puttered around the apartment making… something. He didn't know; he was far too busy burying his head in his arms and trying to block the world out again. He was so,  _so tired_ …

Something nudged him, breaking his half out of it state.

"-wake? Wanna toastie? I even got some ketchup for you, even though it's utterly disgusting."

Dick slowly tilted his head up, only to flinch at the sudden appearance of the hallowed creature sitting next to him. Then he blinked several times and shook his head rapidly, and Roy was Roy again.

Glancing down, he saw the plate of food in the archer's hands. Right. Food. He was supposed to eat it.

He wasn't hungry. In fact, the smell alone was making him want to throw up.

But there was Roy, who had just worked hard to make him the toastie and had even gone and bought him ketchup, even though Roy  _hated_  ketchup, and was probably angry that Dick was taking up so much of his time and- and he couldn't just  _not_ take it.

He took the plate.

So they sat together and ate their food. Or, rather, Roy consumed his food and he nibbled on his own, hoping desperately that his stomach would accept the sustenance and keep everything down.

Roy was shooting him concerned looks. He ignored them.

He placed his sandwich down for half a second to pick up the small glass of water the elder had given him, and then froze as the bread and cheese began to rapidly mold, small bluish green splotches popping up before expanding outwards, rotting everything it touched.

His stomach rolled again and he could feel the blood draining from his face, and he decided that he was beyond eating at the moment and just stared in horrified fascination as the mold crept onto the plate and began rotting that as well, the smell wafting towards his nose.

Roy nudged him again.

"Wanna watch a movie?"

Dick… didn't know. He didn't know what he wanted. He felt tired and sick and sore and terrified and _freezing_  for no reason at all and maybe he sort of just wanted to find a good corner to curl up in and cry or have Batman come and just make everything okay again, but he really, really just didn't know.

So he shrugged.

But then the smell of the moldy toastie reached his nose once more and his stomach clenched in a way that warned of future throwing up if he didn't move,  _now_ , and so he stumbled off the stool- pretending that he didn't waver on his own two feet as the blood rushed out of his head- and headed towards the couch, where he sat down and wrapped his arms around himself, trying to keep his goosebumps under control and his stomach's meager contents inside of himself.

Realizing Roy had vanished, his throat closed up in panic once more, but then the elder was back again with a mound of blankets and pillows, which he hesitantly placed next to him before turning around to deal with the ancient VHS system that he owned. Robin looked tentatively at the blanket and pillow mountain, his blood ice in his bones and his fingers twitching towards the warmth that the duvets could offer.

Then his eyes shifted to somewhere just above the mound and he froze.

There were two bodies on the ground, half shrouded in shadow but he could still see the familiar features of his makeshift family and  _oh God, Bruce_.  _Alfred_.

And his family was fine. Bruce was probably Batmanning somewhere, and Alfred was probably at home, sleeping, and they were fine, they were fine, they weren't dead.

But they were dead. They were  _dead_. They were dead and lying out in front of him with lifeless eyes and bloodied bodies and  _no no no no.._.

And it was the fear gas. It was an illusion. And he really shouldn't bother Roy about it but it looked so  _real_  and he could even  _smell_  the putrid scent of decay and-

His breath hitched.

"Roy?"

Roy tensed up and Dick swallowed again, eyes still on the morbid figures. The bodies stayed still, lifeless except for the trickle of blood slowly seeping down Bruce's mouth.

"Roy… Roy you don't- you don't have any dead bodies in your apartment, r-right?"

Suddenly, there was a tap on his chin and the archer was turning his gaze away from the bodies and onto himself. Dick felt sick to his stomach, but he didn't look back.

"Nope. No bodies.. There's just you and me here. And what you're seeing is a bunch of my gym bags."

He blinked, unsure. It was all so real and-

His eyes turned back to the bodies. Roy tapped his chin again. And he thought that he was going to be sick, that perhaps Roy was lying and that Alfred and Bruce were bleeding out and he wasn't helping them but-

But he could trust Roy. He could.

He nodded, and watched as Roy finally picked out a tape and inserted it into the VHS player. As the older man did so, he grabbed as many blankets as he could and wrapped them around himself, trying to keep out the horrid chill that had settled in his bones.

Roy told him to scoot, and so he did, keeping his mass of blankets to himself. He tensed when Roy sat down, but the man went slow as he wrapped an arm around his shoulders, so he didn't freak out or try and get away.

He simply took a deep breath and turned his eyes to the screen.

He would have laughed as the  _My Little Ponies_ theme song started to play if he had been in any other situation. He couldn't believe that Roy would actually pick the gag gift Wally had gotten him. As it was….

As it was, he just felt tired. And cold.

The first episode began in harmonious bright colors and music, and he tried to keep his focus on it, he  _did_ , but then his eyes strayed upwards, to the crack in the wall that had happened when he and Wally had been wrestling a few months ago and Wally had chucked a book at him, only to fail miserably and hit the wall instead.

It was a good memory, but his focus was on the fact that thousands of bugs had begun to cover the walls, cramming out of the hole and skittering across the painted cement.

Dick swallowed, glanced at the other, whose eyes were fixed on the screen.

"Roy? There's no… Your house isn't infested with bugs, is it?"

Roy's eyes surveyed the apartment, apparently oblivious to the myriads of scuttling creatures, before turning back to him.

"No, I don't think so."

He stared a few more seconds at the bug-infested wall before tearing his eyes away.

"...Kay."

Then he closed all the minute cracks in his blankets and curled a little bit more into Roy, trying to pretend that he couldn't hear the quiet scuttles of the bugs and the small chirping and clicking noises.

Head resting against Roy's shoulder, he felt his eyes slowly grow glazed and his eyelids begin to droop. He was so tired, and for the first time since the whole mess began he was actually feeling relatively warm and safe, and maybe he could just close his eyes for a few minutes and  _sleep_ -

A mad cackle filled the air and it was like a flush of ice water had been introduced to his systems. His eyes snapped open and flickered to the doorway where a shadowy figure was standing, but even Dick could make out through his hazy gaze the bright green hair and blood red smile and  _no, no what was he doing here-_

But…. but maybe it was someone else? Maybe it wasn't  _him_? Perhaps Roy had ordered pizza and that was the pizza delivery man that his fear gas addled brain was making into that monstrous man?

_Come out, little birdie! Come out to PLAAaaayy!_

He swallowed again, fingers gripping the blankets as the clown let loose another cackle.

"R-Roy?"

"Hmmm?"

"I… Who- What's that, by- by the doorway?"

He pointed, and his fingers were shaking slightly, but surely Roy should know if there was an intruder, right?  _Right?_

One slightly worried look later, Dick was tucked in a little closer to Roy.

"It's a coat rack. Why?"

_Oh._

Dick swallowed, and maybe he was blushing, but mainly he was just beyond relieved.

"I- I thought it was the Joker."

They fell back into silence. They watched.

And if every few episodes Dick spotted some new terror and grabbed Roy's wrist, eyes wide and scared and heart pounding, pounding, pounding, seeking reassurance that whatever nightmare he was seeing wasn't real….

Well, Roy didn't seem to mind.

And eventually, everything became so sluggish that he couldn't say what was happening on the screen even if he tried, only aware of the fact that there was a mess of bright colours. And he was so, so tired, and his eyes were so hard to keep open, and then they drooped and they did not open again.

And Roy pulled him a little closer and suddenly he felt safe and warm and that maybe, maybe, the nightmares had no power over him when he was curled up under his brother's arms.

That, maybe, he was going to be okay.

He tried to say something, he couldn't remember what. Maybe a thank you, maybe an apology, maybe even a teasing remark about how Roy seemed oddly invested in the show. He didn't know, and honestly, he could care less.

He curled a little closer to Roy's larger frame.

He slept.

And- maybe hours later, maybe minutes- he felt strong arms lift him up and he squirmed, trying to get away, back to his cocoon of warmth. But then there was something soft in the air, a murmur of comfort, a deep hushing noise, and  _Oh, Batman_ , and then he settled.

Bruce was here. Bruce was warm. Bruce would keep the monsters away.

He shifted, curling into the warmth. Curling into safety.

He was going to be okay.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TA-DAH! I FINISHEEEDDD!
> 
> SO? What did you think? I hope it wasn't too repetitive from the last chapter! :D
> 
> Thank you so much for everyone who decided to read this fic! You guys are the best, and I hope you enjoyed! :3
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> The Mashpotatoe Queen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> Until next time,
> 
> The Mashpotatoe Queen


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